Here's where we do it...
dot
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((should be all set))
Bor carves a small whistle as he and the boy head south to Waterdeep on their way back to Daggerford. He will give the boy the whistle to serve as warning or signal. To serve as a memory. Greenest will take twice as long to reach but perhaps Bor will come across faster travel in town.
Erlanthar is a great man. It troubles me to think he sent for me after all these years. If he needs me it must be for good reason though. He deserves to be met in the least.
Rain, rain go away, come again another day.
The dwarf trudges hidden by cloak and hood through the light rain, enjoying the way that the greenery is freshened and invigorated by the weather. Water drips off her chin and cheeks, some into the armour trickles down her back.
But when a dwarf pumps its arms like a metronome then the shield and hammer swing freely to get the boots through the muddy tracks behind the three wagons heading for Phandelvin. The merchants are not going on to Greenest and her words on the threat of wyrms just confirmed their fears.
The Sword Coast has seen an increase in dragons. Instead of the usual stories, everyone has a friend of a friend who knows somewhere that the beasts have torched.
Ontharr wants me to go to Greenest. I wonder why by the Mother? Hmmmm... Wool gathering again! Listen girl just get to Phandelvin first and let others worry about tomorrow.
The rutted track emerges from a wooded hillside, and you catch your first glimpse of Phandalin. The town consists of forty of fifty simple log buildings, some built on old fieldstone foundations. More old ruins - crumbling stone walls covered in ivy and briers - surround the newer houses and shops, showing how this must have been a much larger town in centuries past. Most of the newer buildings are set on the sides of the cart track, which widens into a muddy main street of sorts as it climbs towards a ruined manor house on a hillside at the east side of town.
As you approach, you see children playing on the town green and townsfolk tending to chores or running errands at shops. Many people look up as you approach, but all return to their business as you pass by.
In the center of town stands a large, newly built roadhouse of fieldstone and rough-hewn timbers. The common room is filled with locals nursing mugs of ale or cider, all of them eyeing you with curiosity.
Tycandus dodged through the town covering his mouth to keep the corrosive gas from scoring his lungs. He turned a corner and skidded to a halt, arms covering his head as stones rained down from a building struck by an immense lightning bolt, driving him down the alley. Everywhere he looked there was untold destruction, even the hillside nearby raged with fire, fed by huge gouts of flame blazing out of the choking smoke. He ran towards the dark end of the alleyway, and five sets of eyes bore into him, and twin blasts of ice and acid spewed out of the darkness and eveloped him, the last thing he saw as he fell was the signpost that read...Greenest.
Tycandus awoke in a cold sweat again, the same as he had every fifth night for the last few months, or had it been longer? He really couldn't say anymore. Each time he saw horrific images of Faerun being massacred by fire, acid, ice, lightning and corrosive gasses.
Tymora's fickle fancy, how long is this going to go on? He roused himself, and splashed water over his head, washing away the physical memory of the nightmare, but only slightly helping the dread he felt. In each of the dreams, he'd seen that damned sign, no matter where in Faerun the dream seemed to start. He ran an oversized coin through his fingers absentmindedly, Alright, if you want me to Greenest, you could have laid off the apocalyptic visions, you know? He flipped the coin in the air, not really expecting an answer, but when the coin landed on edge in the mud, Tycandus arched a brow upward, Very funny, m'lady. He looked up at the threatening rain, and said I don't suppose you could send good travelling weather? He grinned as he picked up the coin and slipped it into its pocket.
Thunder rumbled as he made his way into town, and checked with the soldiers there for caravan traffic making its way to Greenest. About the only thing he could find were wagons headed to Phandalin, where they said he should be able to find passage the rest of the 1000 or so miles he needed to travel. By the time he secured travel, the rain had started in that miserable, steady, slow pace that ensured that you wouldn't take shelter, but could never get dry.
The wagons made good time to Phandalin in the rain, despite the sodden roads, and Tycandus bid them farewell as he headed to the roadhouse. It looked sturdy enough, and best of all, dry.
It hadn't been but a few miles back when Bor had passed a lone traveler heading inland. Inquiries about southern travel potential were well met with news of a small town nearby where he might find others seeking similar passage and possible caravans heading down the High Road.
So when Bor approached the simple little town he was not surprised by the bustle. The traveler had suggested starting Bor's search in the center of town. It was there that sat a roadhouse brimming with the noise of commonality.
I see no signs naming this place but it sounds as good as any to procure a little drink and some information. Let's see what's inside.
Sure enough a common room sprawls out before Bor as he steps through the doorway. His road weary clothes are not an uncommon style here but his face is less familiar as the patrons stop and stare. Bor surveys the room as he approaches the bar and slowly the noise level rises to its usual level. Bor pulls out 2 coppers from a pocket, "Bartender! Two of these for any drink that might lighten muddy boots! More, if I can find it!"
Some people thought of elves as a race nature-loving, one-with-the-forest, practically fey creatures. Vanoe'adae knew this. How many times had he been told he didn't belong in Waterdeep? How many times had he had to defend his right to call the city home? Enough.
Now that he'd spent a few days on the road, getting sore feet and swatting mosquitoes, and the nights being terrorized by strange rustlings in the trees and having his food pilfered by raccoons, sleeping on the ground far from any place to get a pint of ale, he could say with certainty that not all elves loved the wilderness.
He'd been sent here to find his destiny, and because according to what he'd been able to dig up asking around, it was on the way to the place where Talis was being held. So the sight of an honest town, with real buildings and an actual tavern was enough to get him jogging the last few miles. As a result, he was a little out of breath when he pushed into the door.
"For the love of heaven, ale!" he called out.
He was a slender, slight dark-haired elf, dressed in little more than rags and ancient, patched leathers, with a longbow and the rest of his possessions stuffed into a ragged bundle.
"Greetings," he added as an afterthought, to those whose looks suggested they thought him strange.
An average dwarf, with a strong gentle face, Zennor is able to move with relative agility for her people. She has always thought that getting round a battlefield quickly and with mobility much more important than the thickest armour, so heavy that a medic could barely trundle.
She presses open the door and quietly enters the common room of the roadhouse. Assaulted by smells of food and drink, she smiles as the still-damp hood comes down.
After a brief nod to all and sundry, Zennor heads for the bar and requests room and board. Since leaving the Sanjust Clan, she has gradually lost her wide-eyed stare at the locals and their strange ways. But she nurses a pint of the local brew. Applescratch indeed, I can almost smell the seeds and worms in this. Bit thin but that is sure to be a fine idea. Time to get better directions.
Lifting her voice, Zennor asks of the maid dropping off a platter of tender lamb stew with onions, "I need to know the way to Greenest. Can you help me find the way and possibly company for the road. I hear it is not so safe nowadays?"
"I need to know the way to Greenest. Can you help me find the way and possibly company for the road. I hear it is not so safe nowadays?"
Tycandus perked up, hearing that and moved over towards the Dwarf's table. "I can't help you with the way much, other than 'South', but I could possibly help with the company for the road. I'm heading to Greenest too."
Tycandus offers a hand, "I'm Tycandus. Mind if I sit and we can discuss?"
"Greenest?" the elf says when Zennor speaks.
"Both of you?" he adds when Tycandus replies. "It's strange that we should all be going there. Or maybe not so strange. I, too, am on the way to Greenest."
He remembers the wizard telling him he would find his destiny here, though he had never expected his destiny to come in the shape of a dwarf and a half-elf. In truth, whenever he had imagined it, it had been more in the shape of a noose, so this was a decided improvement.
CLUNK BLONK T-T-TUNK TUNK
The crash of mugs was loud enough to turn a few heads and raise one other. Bor must've had a fitful dream for whatever startled him awake nearly shook the tavern through his convulsion. He slowly peeled his head from the bar rising with his eyes closed, drool framing his chin. The redness across his forehead made it seem as if he had been single handedly holding back the bar top from escaping skyward.
Bor flopped an arm down on the bar and with a slow methodical sweep, cleared the rest of his indulgences onto the floor. A single silver was left in its wake. "All clean."
Bor rose from his seat and shuffled down the bar towards a group that had started to gather. A tangle of gear and weaponry sloughed off him like multiple tails. "You fine fellows and lady are heading my way as well. If you'd allow my company, it'd make the days flow more quickly."
Tycandus chuckled at the man's means of 'cleaning' the bar, "I can't speak for the others, but I'd welcome the company. It'd make things go more quickly, and the entertainment would be in grand style." He nods back over to the bar where the scramble to clean up the mugs from the floor began in earnest.
"As I was telling the lady here, I'm Tycandus, from Amphail. I'd really rather not seem rude and call you dwarf, elf and human, if we're really going to travel." A grin spread on Tycandus' face, and mirth danced in his eyes, "So it would probably be good to know each other's names."
Dorn held back a sigh as he caught sight of Phandalin. He had been hoping for much more. He was down to his last 15 gold coins. A small fortune to some, yes. But he was painfully aware of how quickly it could go.
He thought of his little sister and grimaced. Two years she had been dead now. But time didn't matter. Anyone could be brought back, you just needed the coin for it.
But the old adage still held true. You need money to make money, so here he was in this small town looking for "honest" work.
He spotted the roadhouse and grinned. Perhaps he could inquire for work there, and make a little coin while he was at it. After all, everyone loved music.
He walked inside the bar and quickly found a corner he could stand and be seen from. He pulled out his flute with a flourish, and smiled at the small crowd. Of course, none of them were really paying attention yet. He put the flute to his lips and began to play a favorite drinking song of his, The Folly of Buxom Molly. The song was fast, fun and tremendously upbeat. It was better with a chorus of course. But hopefully someone would join in.
-Posted with Wayfinder
The sound of smashing crockery was a sweet reminder of home, but could also mean trouble. Vanoe'adae's hand flew to his dagger and he looked up at the big, half-awake fighter lumbering towards them. Desperate times and all, but surely he'd never been foolish enough to pick the pocket of someone that big. Then the brute spoke and Vano sighed with relief, letting go of the dagger and kicking the end of the bench out for the man to sit.
"That makes four," he says, a strange smile playing on his lips. The half elf introduced himself, and Vano saw the sense in it. If they were to be travelling together, it was better that they not be strangers. Strangers were more likely to be suspicious, or to start fights for no particular reason.
"I'm Vanoe'adae. Call me Vano if that's too much of a mouthful." He thought about Talis, kidnapped by some weird cult that was headed for Greenest. He felt a little sick. He looked at the faces of the strangers. Could one of them be in the cult? All of them?
"So," he says, hesitantly. "What ... er ... What has you on the road to Greenest?"
The drone of the tavern was typical with loud conversation and shrill music, laughter and exclamations, boots on floors and mugs on table tops. The Half-Elf had just finished his greeting of Bor when the most recent flute song came to an end; simultaneously the din of conversation had taken a breath of silence or the next sip of ale.
BBBAAAAAARRUUUUUUAAUUUUUUUAUAUAPPPPTTT
The terrifying belch that roared from Bor's mouth drew the attention of many and a few weapons to boot. Some of the less hearty shrieked having thought a monstrous creature had invaded their safe space.
"Well Met Tycandus of Amphail! And you Vano!" Bor followed with a open handed slap to the knight's shoulder. "I am Bor Bersk of the Rauvin Vale! An old friend requested my presence in Greenest. The matter is unknown to me beyond this."
Zennor answers the grip of Tycandius with a thin one. Her forearm does not thicken much. She nods to Bor and Vano as the join her.
"I intend to head off tomorrow after prayers and breaking my fast. But your company would be most welcome to me. All of you if you do not mind my need for morning devotions in the name of The Goddess. My name is Zennor, my clan is the Sanjust and I am of the Praze or Religious fraternity of healing soldiers. A sergeant and medic once upon a time."
She orders another drink each for the group as they listen to the flute player. But singing along on one or two never enters her mind no matter how well the music sounds.
"I am travelling to Greenest at the behest of a friend too, Bor. A man I owed a favour to. He reckons the town may be in danger from wyrms."
Bor feels the unmistakable feel of chainmail under Tycandus' cloak, and Tycandus rolls his shoulder after the good natured, but solid clap of Bor's hand, and chuckles. "Well then, it sounds like things are settled, and we'll be travelling to Greenest together. Safety in numbers and all that.
Tycandus nods and offers his thanks to Zennor for the drink. "I'm travelling to Greenest of my own accord. Something tells me that the start of some important things are happening there."
Dorn wraps up his first song and bows theatrically after the small smattering of applause he gets.
"Thank you. Thank you. Allow me a small moment of respite and I'll be happy to take requests."
He hung his flute next to his beautiful rapier, tipped his hat and swaggered up to the bar.
"Greetings, good fellow. Mayhap you could help me. I'm looking for something both profitable and exciting to do - mostly in that order. Is there anyone hiring?"
-Posted with Wayfinder
"Agreed then. We'll leave in the morning?" Vano says, smiling. The group seems strong. Strong enough that he can hopefully find Talis and get out without anyone noticing him. He turns to applaud the musician enthusiastically, listening as the man approaches the bar.
Profitable and exciting? Sounds illegal. And interesting. he thinks to himself. Better to bring a songbird than listening to Bor Bersk belching around the campfire at night.
Bor nodded towards Zennor acknowledging her reasons and in thanks for further imbibement. A mighty sip followed. It betrayed an ancient thirst not to be expected of one who'd just been blacked out not moments before...
The music came to a halt with sparse claps throughout the common room. An announcement was made and Bor became aware of a new patron at the bar.
"...I'm looking for something both profitable and exciting..." Bor heard the musician say as he approached. "Barkeep! Save your breath to hire new entertainment for this one's coming with us! " Bor slams the now empty mug down on the bar. "Music Man! I cannot promise profit but the excitement will be mighty on the way to Greenest!"
With this last word Bor raised his hands into the air to express the grandeur of the upcoming trip. And losing himself to the excitement of drink he brought a mighty fist crashing down upon the wooden mug smashing it to bits. Smiling like a child on his name day, Bor slowly turned his head til he met the souring gaze of the barkeep... "Sorry, sorry..." In two broad strokes the bar had been cleared, fresh splinters littering the floor. A single copper rested where last stood a mug.
"ALL CLEAN!"
Dorn had a witty rejoinder all loaded up when the belching man said he couldn't promise coin, but it died in his throat as soon as he said Greenest. Maybe Tymora had a soft spot for him after all.
He smiled and brazenly sat down at their table.
"You all look like a bunch who's got stories to share. Perhaps we can share a drink and some company. Tell me, what business do you all have in Greenest?" he said disarmingly.
-Posted with Wayfinder
"Well met. I am Zennor Praze Sanjust and I go to Greenest at the request of a warrior and friend who fears an increase in draconic activity around there."
The dwarf maiden finishes her second cider and relaxes a little in this company. Her hammer still rests against the back of her bench seat, next to her left arm.
Five of us now, going to Greenest, and all with the look of adventurers. Maybe the wizard was right....
"I've heard rumors that an old friend of mine is there," he says simply, not wanting to get into the details of kidnapping and dragon cults that might incline some of his new-found companions to avoid the possible dangers associated with such things. There would be a better time to share these details, such as when they were committed to whatever action was necessary.
Dorn chuckled to cover his surprise.
"Dragons?!" he said, feigning surprise. "Well, I must admit that does sound exciting. Your friend must be well connected indeed to know the comings and goings of wyrms. Is he a great wizard then? Or is it 'she'?"
-Posted with Wayfinder
Zennor gently repeats "...warrior and friend."
Tycandus. I'm going to investigate the larger metropolis. I'm sure there arebetter opportunities there
Zennor gently repeats "...warrior and friend."
"My mistake."
Tycandus. I'm going to investigate the larger metropolis. I'm sure there arebetter opportunities there
Investigate? That's an interesting word to use. There are secrets here. And that usually means opportunity, Dorn thought slyly.
"Indeed. Let us drink to better opportunities."
-Posted with Wayfinder
The Inn is a mostly common if clean and new design. There are two long trundle tables in the center of the room, and parallel to a large roaring fireplace. Two smaller tables flank the fireplace, and there is another round table between the end of the bar, and the entrance to the kitchen. The door opens opposite the fireplace, and the bar is to your right as you enter.
In the nearest corner to the left of the room, is a small corner stage, with room cleared in front of it for dancing or mingling. In the farthest left corner of the room is a strange area with a heavy wooden table, 8-sewn off tree stumps chained to the floor, and some kind of strange wire barrier isolating this area from the rest of the room.
The stairs to the second level rise above this area, and you can see (6) doors on the far side of the room, fronting a small balcony overlooking the main part of the bar. There is also a door at the end of the balcony, which leads to a room above the kitchen. Other than the kitchen door downstairs, and the doors upstairs there seem to be no other entrances to the room.
The only obvious window is one behind the bar facing out into the street.
The Inkeeper introduces himself as Torien Stonehill, with his wife Trilena doing the cooking, and his son Pip helping out as he can. There is one gossipy barmaid on duty tonight serving all the tables. Her name is called loudly several times as Elsa.
Gathered at the large table nearest to the fire, are a large group of local farmers. Mostly men, there are a couple of women, and one teenage boy. They seem to be celebrating a naming day or something, but are not overly indulging...they have to work tomorrow. They seem to be in the closing stages of the celebration, as stories are being relayed, and gifts given.
The other large table has a group at each end with the middle vacated. They seem to be local craftsmen or shopkeepers with one group talking and drinking (Obviously regulars), and the other playing cards.
At the table to the left of the fireplace sit a young man and a young woman, obviously courting from the way they are leaning close and touching each other.
The table to the right of the fireplace is filled with three grubby dwarven miners, toasting each other, and laughing at some obviously hilarious jokes.
The table at the end of the bar has five chairs around it, and is not currently being used, as you enter the bar.
Sitting at the bar are three locals at the end nearest the door, and there are three more barstools at the end of the bar.
Torian works behind the bar mostly, and Elsa covers the room, with Trilena occasionally coming from the kitchen door to deliver some food, or help with busing.
Tycandus
Tycandus you are the first to arrive at the Inn. When you arrive you see everything described above with the exception of the table full of dwarves. As you stand by the fire drying out, the dwarves enter a few minutes later, and immediately play a game of rock paper scissors to determine who is buying this evening.
After a short period of time you see a large human enter. This is Bors. He heads straight for the bar, and plants himself down. After a brief altercation with the inkeeper, he simply begins to drink. A few moments later, the dirtiest scraggliest looking elf you've ever seen slouches in...again demanding ale.
Right on his hills is a female dwarf, that is obviously a priest or cleric of some sort. She steps to the bar, speaks with the innkeeper a bit, then takes a seat at the table at the end of the bar, with a fresh mug of ...something. At hearing her mention you destination, you take the opportunity to introduce yourself.
Bors
You are the second to arrive.
You arrive at the tavern just before dusk. As you bluster your way in, you see the scene described above. The only person who appears not to be a local is a man with obvious elven blood warming and drying himself by the fireplace. He looks up as you enter as well, but seems to be undisturbed by your loud intrusion. Probably you haven't interrupted a quiet evening with his friends. He is wearing chain, and carries two longswords.
When you place your coins on the bar, the innkeeper looks at you a bit, then fills a wooden mug almost fully with something dipped from a barrel.
You're new here, so I'll let you have the first for half price, but ale here is 4 cp per mug". "And we don't want any trouble here".
A few moments later, the dirtiest scraggliest looking elf you've ever seen slouches in...again demanding ale.
Right on his hills is a female dwarf, that is obviously a priest or cleric of some sort. She steps to the bar, speaks with the innkeeper a bit, then takes a seat at the table at the end of the bar, with a fresh mug of ...something.
Then the room begins to spin a bit, and you decide it's time for a nap...until you hear the word you didn't expect to hear here...Greenest... You jump up sending everything on the bar spinning and spilling in all directions. As you attempt to clean up your mess a young boy comes up, and continues your efforts...much more effectively.
"Here here now". "We'll get that, but why don't you take yourself over to those fellows there". "They'll be a fresh ale awaiting you on the lady dwarf".
You rise to your feet, and approach the table with introductions all around. As you make yourself comfortable you notice that a man has stepped up to the stage, and began to play...rather well a drinking song on his flute.
Vano
Finally civilization...and a chance to get warm and dry, but first things first. You sling open the door and shout for ale before even closing the door behind you.
The patrons of the bar look up as you enter, seemingly more perturbed than they should be at your intrusion.
The only person who appears not to be a local is a man with obvious elven blood warming and drying himself by the fireplace. He looks up as you enter as well, but seems to be undisturbed by your loud intrusion. Probably you haven't interrupted a quiet evening with his friends. He is wearing chain, and carries two longswords.
As you make your way to the bar, you see a large human who seems to be freshly arrived due to the dripping puddle of water beneath his barstool. He seems to be well into his cups, and as you watch lays his head on the bar. Well that's good. Hopefully he didn't drink all the ale before he passed out.
As you work your way to the bar, and step to order an ale (4-cp please). You notice that before everyone can get settled down, a dwarven priestess steps into the bar, and speaks with the innkeeper, getting herself a room, and ordering food. As she sets to have her meal, you hear something very unexpected come out of her mouth...Greenest. As you finish your latest drink of the ale, and begin to head her way, you can see that the half-elf who had been warming by the fireplace is heading to the table as well. You can't help but overhear what he has to say, and just as you begin to take a seat at the table with these new acquaintances, the big lout at the bar returns surprisingly to consciousness, and stomps to the table as well. It seems that he is interested in this distant town as well.
And then the entertainment began. Surprisingly for a human the guy is pretty good, and you find yourself tapping you foot to the unfamiliar, and obviously human melody... and clapping when he finishes the number.
Zannor
As you make your way through the rain, you are happy to see that you've made it before it's completely dark. You see a bedraggled looking elf enter the room in front of you, with the door only just shutting behind him before you enter. I'll bet there's a story there.
You enter the warm common room, and are surprised by how quiet it is. As you enter all eyes turn your way...then some turn towards the elf you saw enter before you...then some turn to a big human sleeping at the bar. Does this town hate strangers?
You make your way to the bar, and the Innkeeper introduces himself. [b]"Aye I've got rooms available they're 5 sp a night which includes your breaking of the fast". "A warm hearty meal will cost you another 5 sp, and our house ale is 4 Cp a pint". "If you have a seat over there We'll bring you your meal in a moment.
You see much of what is described above with a few exceptions. A warrior with elven blood warming himself at the fire. The elf who entered before you standing dripping at the bar with a half empty ale, and the Human passed out at the bar. As you inquire about Greenest, the man at the fireplace and the recently arriving elf both approach you. Just as you begin to settle in the giant at the bar stands and seems to find that he has something in common with you as well, and noisly joins you at the table.
AS introductions are made a man begins a beautiful melody on the stage, and several people begin to sing along, with a few getting up to dance. The only people who don't seem to be overly impressed are the taciturn dwarves sitting drinking at the table beside the fireplace.
Dorn
You had hoped to make it to the tavern before dark, but it was further than you thought. As you make your way into the tavern, you can sense a tension in the air. All the dry people, who appear to be locals, are looking askance at all the wet people, who seem to be gathered at a table at the end of the bar.
Well this is something you can do something about. You see the stage in the corner, and dropping your wet cloak to the ground, pull out your flute, and begin a trill of warm up routines. A smiling barmaid brings you an ale, and leaves it on the rail around the stage with a smile and a wink. As you begin to play, you notice that the acoustics in this place are outstanding, and the room seems to swell with your music. It's almost...well magical. Several people begin to sing along, and even a group talking at the closest trestle table stand up and begin to dance. Ah this should earn me a few silver. You earn a hearty round of applause, and requests for one more. A few even hold up lit brands and wave them around asking for an encore. Everyone seems to have enjoyed it except for a table of dwarves at a table by the fireplace.
As you make your way to the bar, detouring past the table of new arrivals, you find you proffered hat satisfyingly filling with coin...mostly copper, but a few silver (22-cp, 4-sp). You arrive just as the large human springs to his feet and lurches to join the other new arrivals at their table.
His arrival coincides with yours, and the group of five begins a round of introductions and stories...when...
As the five strangers gathered around and began to plan their journey on the morrow, their conversation is interrupted by a small earthquake...wait...no...was that really a belch? The red faced human warrior rose to his feet in the middle of the conversation, and let loose with one of the most powerful expressions of excess gas ever experienced. Finally the Dwarves at the table by the fireplace stood and applauded... huzzah's flying, and mugs raised. The big man then somehow crushed another mug, and the Innkeeper approached.
"OK"! that's quite enough now". "You're going to have to move to the adventurers section". He points to the screened off area, with seemingly nothing breakable in it. "We like your type here, but it can get expensive".
As the evening goes along the crowd thins, and the group is left to their own devices to make their plans.
Wisdom Perception checks.
DC 10
You overhear people speaking of how unusual it was for five stranger to arrive in one night...and all looking for Greenest. Whoever heard of Greenest.
DC 15
You hear a farmer with a scar on his face mention that he knows of Greenest. He was once station with a man from near there. It's a long way off down south, and east of Baldur's Gate.
DC 20
From a woman at the bar, closest to the front wall, Greenest? Isn't that the name of the place that pretty girl that's staying here mentioned she keeps dreaming about.
You are all now seated in the adventurers pen, tired, full, warm and a bit tipsy, as you get to know each other. As the evening winds down, Dorn performs a few more songs, but everyone seems to be spent, and by early evening the bar is empty except for the staff, and the adventurers.
Dorn smiles as the various conversations pass over him. He makes a point to take it all in, as he engaged in typical small talk with the group at the table. Lots of meaningless chatter that amounted to him revealing nothing of himself or his reasons to head to Greenest.
Still maybe he should shake things up. He leaned in to speak to the group quietly.
"We seem to have gathered an audience. Everyone is fascinated that such a disparate group is so fascinated with a little scrap of land like Greenest. And we might not be the only ones. There's whispering of a beautiful woman, who's been dreaming of the place. And she's staying here."
-Posted with Wayfinder
Zennor approaches the innkeep again and asks the obvious question, "Master Stonehill, who can tell me the way to Greenest? My friends and I require such."
Zennor approaches the innkeep again and asks the obvious question, "Master Stonehill, who can tell me the way to Greenest? My friends and I require such."
"Sorry miss". "I couldn't have differed Greenest as a city, forest, or mountain until it has become the topic of conversation recently". "I'd never heard of it before then...still...if anyone in town knows it might be one of the trading posts in town". "There's Barthen's Provisions, and the Lionshield Costner". "Their both closed for the evening, but you might try them in the morning".
Tycandus arches a brow at the mention of the woman who's been dreaming of Greenest. Another person having dreams of Greenest? That can't be simply coincidence.
Perhaps in the morn we'll meet up with this woman. Clearly she'll want to find out what's going on in Greenest too, and if she's dreaming of Greenest, maybe there's some clairvoyance to it.
Bor listened intently or at least as well as he could manage. He'd heard a farmer loosely mention general directions to Greenest but if there were others with intentions of going and pretty ones at that, then maybe it was worth increasing their numbers by one more.
"...if anyone in town knows it might be one of the trading posts in town." Bor heard the bartender say to Zennor. Two trading posts with potential leads. Maybe we could procure a cart and other travel provisions to make the journey more comfortable.
Bor leaned in to the heavy table, "Let us see about rooms for the evening. Maybe we could discern who this dreamer might be and if she be willing company on the morrow."
Vano sits with his back to the wall, not liking this "adventurers pen" one bit. It's not like he broke anything. On the other hand, it meant that the farmers and such who gave him dirty looks when he arrived can't get to him easily. Not that they would have reason to, he reminds himself.
"How much does a room in this place cost, anyway?" he says, doubtfully. "Maybe we can sleep in the stables or something."
"The stables!? Now, now, don't give up so easily, friend. First see if there's a comely lass who strikes your fancy and is willing to put you up for the night. That's what I intend to do. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to see to my own sleeping arrangements," Dorn said with a wink. He then went to the bar to strike up a conversation with a comely lass.
A redheaded elf stepped into the roadhouse's common area, pausing to shake the rain from her hair before making her way further inside the room. She wore robes, and walked using a quarterstaff, though there was no ailment that seemed to require her to do so, and had a pouch hanging from the sash that tied the robes closed.
Bright green eyes looked around the common room as she made her way to the bar, pausing to drift over the newcomers one at a time.
"Elsa, something warm to drink, please, and if Trilena's got anything warm made up, it would be delightful to have some of her wonderful cooking after being out in the rain," the woman stated warmly, smiling charmingly at the barmaid.